


Rampage (on hiatus)

by AnonAngstAuthor



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Sequel to Don't You Remember?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2018-11-18 17:29:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11295339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonAngstAuthor/pseuds/AnonAngstAuthor
Summary: She'd forgotten what it felt like to have his arms around her. Now that she was reminded the grip felt suffocating and like home all the same. "Come on Joo-ny," He hissed. "Don't you remember?"Disclaimer: I don't own any character from The Dark Knight. Just Juniper Heden.





	1. Don't You Remember?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " A smirk tilted the corner of his mouth, the action had no malicious intent, and Juniper found herself questioning why it seemed so familiar."

**_July 18_ ** **_th_ ** **_, 2008_ **

**_WHO IS THE MYSTERIOUS 'JOKER'?_ **

**_THE JOKER TERRORIZES GOTHAM CITY!_ **

**_THE JOKER ESCAPES HOLDING CELL!_ **

**_GOTHAM IS SAVED! JOKER RELOCATED TO ARKHAM ASYLUM!_ **

_'Blah, blah, blah, stupid headlines."_

Juniper rolled her eyes at the stack of newspapers that remained on the doorstep of Mrs. Wilson's Flower shop. _Somehow_ , even with the man locked up at _Arkham_ , the paper still continued to find reasons to put his name in the titles. It was laughable, truly, Gotham's constant complaints of the demented clown, when in reality-they couldn't get _enough_ of him, he was _one_ of the most interesting things that had happened to the city. There _were_ rules, however, rules placed, when he was locked away, that nobody _ever_ spoke of, that were simply _common sense_. Some were simple, like, no wearing _purple_ -lavender, or a mauve. _Even_ a dark purple-It was practically propaganda for the crazed villain, he'd made it a _symbol_ , of anarchy, _destruction_. Nobody could look at the color without thinking of the chaos he'd reigned on the city. Other rules were, _not_ so simple, after all, it wasn't easy _forget_ about the deaths of Rachel Dawes, and Harvey Dent. Gotham's white knight, in all his hero-like glory. And, the nights Juniper spent, the _too_ - _long_ walks down poorly lit alley ways, the freezing shock of anticipation that gripped her chest when she heard a noise, off in the distance, feet behind her. _No_ , those days weren't _easy_ to forget at _all_ , but those were the rules, she _had_ to, or else she'd spend the rest of her life, reliving those moments. _It doesn't matter_ , she told herself, she would be considered _lucky_ to have never actually been in his presence.

That didn't stop her haunting dreams, of brown eyes, rimmed in black, with depths so familiar-she just couldn't _place_ them.

Juniper rolled her eyes, before kicking the rain-drenched, soggy stack of newspapers, away, and continuing up the rusty staircase-into the modest shop. The bell chimed, as she opened the door, and flipped on the lights. It was _odd_ , that Mrs. Wilson wasn't already inside, arranging a bouquet, or stubbornly sweeping at the splintered, wood flooring. The answering machine, off in a corner, behind the front desk, blinked red at her. Juniper wasted no time in waiting around to answer it, and clicked the gray protruding button down, as she passed, barely listening to the context of the messages. She hummed to herself, the melody to a song that she herself couldn't quite place, and focused on evening out the lily stems, on a tacky corsage. The soft spoken lilt that hung in the air, made her pause, the scissors mid-snip, between her shabbily painted nails. Mrs. Wilson's voice cracked over the message, and Juniper worried her lip as she listened on, "June, _dear_ , it's Edna, I'm with Mister Wilson, at the moment… and," The hesitation in the woman's usually confident voice made her anxious, Juniper grabbed for a plastic box, and stiffly the bundle of flowers inside. "Well," The old woman's voice took on a hushed tone, "He's had another _episode_ ," The girl let out a sigh, blowing her bands from her view. Kenny's 'episodes' were the everlasting symptoms of the experimental drugs, his previous doctor, _Crane_ , had given him-before his whole ' _Scarecrow'_ persona. No nursing home would take him, given his connections to one of Gotham's previous terrorists. The only place Edna could take him anymore, was Arkham.

"Anyway, I left the shop in a haste, and forgot my _purse_ on the _shelf_ , by the tulips. Be a _dear_ and grab it for me? _Oh_! while your at it, bring some daisies along with you? It would just mean the _world_ to Kenny, and this place is so _very_ bland. I-" Juniper was already locking the door behind her, fresh daisies, and fitting, floral print purse, in her hand. Mrs. Wilson's message continued on, her voice distant, as though she knew the younger girl hadn't stayed to listen, but still addressing her, kindly. "You'll never believe it! _He's_ here! The man, that did all those nasty things, The-uh- _The Joker_! _That's_ it! They've got him wandering about! In the _day_ room, with my _Kenny_ , he's just staring off into space. It's a bit odd, _truthfully_ -to see him not causing someone bodily harm-his _eye's,_ theyhaven't left the window… _Oh_? Yes M-" The recording beeped, cutting her off mid-sentence as the elderly woman began talking to one of the staff members.

Juniper glared at the woman behind the bland, white desk, before taking the visitor tag, and quickly adhesing it to her blouse, above her breast. She rushed on her way down the wide, florescent lit, hallway, heading straight for the sketchy looking elevator, that made worrying clicking sounds, and screeched whenever the doors opened. The dreaded, generic music played, crackling over the intercom, Juniper clutched the bag to her chest, tightly, as she tried to think of _something_ other than the snooty lady at the front desk. _And,_ being in a, _seemingly_ , endless building, crawling with serial killers. _Yeah_ , maybe that was getting to her, just a _bit_. When the elevator door opened, she rushed from its confines, and headed straight toward the heavily guarded door, labeled, 'Day Room.' With a heavy sigh, Juniper showed the guards her visitor's pass, and impatiently tapped her foot as she waited for them to unlatch the heavy, metal door. She was surprised, when she stepped inside, and most of the patients, gathered around, appeared harmless, and _almost_ normal looking. The girl spotted Edna, tucked away in the corner of the large room, that smelled strongly of bleach, and Lysol. Kenny was beside her, transfixed on a game of chess he was busy playing with a mumbling patient, he had a bright yellow band around his arm-Juniper bit the inside of her cheek, she felt pity for the old man, he'd be stuck here for months before they let him out, again. And then he'd just _continue_ coming back. The elderly man looked up, his face brightening immediatel, and Juniper quickened her pace as he began to fuss, trying to get out of his chair to greet her. She was at his side in an instant, his long, frail arms wrapped around her side, in a kind, but brief, hug. Juniper felt herself smile, genuinely, for the first time in days.

"Mister Wilson, you shouldn't strain yourself. How are ya' feeling?" She asked, before, politely, handing Mrs. Wilson her bag, she waved off the woman's gratitude with a pat to her arm. Kenny nodded, turning his attention back to his game, when it was his turn to make a move. Juniper plucked a daisy from the bundle, and presented it, twirling it between her fingertips, for him.

" _June_ , what would I _do_ without you to brighten up my day?" Kenny adjusted the glasses on his nose, and took the flower, his face breaking into a wide grin. Juniper laughed, handing him the bundle, and watching the surprise light up his eyes. The man had needed a distraction. So had she.

"How's that boyfriend of your's doing, June? He hasn't been by the shop, lately. Is everything alright?" Juniper sighed, nodding slowly towards the older couple. _Damien_ , her boyfriend. Juniper felt herself grit her teeth. He was _kind_ , and _sensitive_ , and _handsome_ , and _supportive_ , and probably the man of _any_ girl's dream, but, at times, Juniper couldn't stand to be near him. _She_ ** _loved_** _him_ , she did. As much as she _could_ love someone, given her past experiences, with the repulsive emotion. Juniper appreciated the caring man, from a distance, and knew that better would never come her way, because he was truly a great guy. He loved her. Sometimes, she just felt, _suffocated_.

"Yeah, he's great, just.. _busy_ , y'know?" They smiled, understandingly. It's not like she was being _forced_ to date him, and she _could_ leave him, but _he_ was happy, and Juniper knew that no matter how hard she tried, she'd never be the girl she'd been. Happiness had evaded her for years-eleven to be exact. No matter how _great_ Damien was, there would always be an emptiness in her chest, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Because, the only person she'd even been _in_ love with, had been presumed dead, when she was just a girl, who'd thought it was only a silly crush. _Jack_.

_How wrong she'd been._

Juniper began to back away, slowly, as she lied through her teeth to both Edna, and Kenny, about why she had to leave so soon. It was getting hard to breathe. Sudden memories flashed behind her eyelids when she blinked, memories of him, the wild blonde hair, the golden brown, narrowed eyes. The _smile_. Juniper's throat tightened, her eyes watering, the empty feeling in her chest felt as though it would swallow her whole. She was at the metal door, standing in front of it, she hadn't remembering crossing the room to it, but there she stood. _Someone_ , someone had a hold on her wrist, it wasn't a tight grip, it wasn't even threatening, if she'd still been caught up in her head, she wouldn't have even noticed. The touch, it seared her, chills ran up her arms. _She was in a room full of mentally estranged people_. Briefly, Juniper looked around the room for a guard, every single one of them had seemingly, disappeared, even the other patients had busied themselves with various frivolous tasks. Slowly, she was being turned, in the hands of a stranger.

The color black clouded her view, and Juniper wondered if she'd gone blind. There was a pause in time, her heart stopped for a moment, the sudden realization that she was going to **die** had her freezing, a gasp caught in her throat. _His_ arms were around her waist, holding her-much too intimately, especially since the guy was fucking _insane_. Juniper felt a wave of shame fuse with her body's reaction to him, her torso pressed into his, without much persuasion from him, at all. The way he was staring into her eyes, _searching_ , it made her uncomfortable, more so that his seemed so lifeless, and black. _How_ he still had on his makeup, she wasn't sure, but the green from him hair had faded, almost entirely-the mass murdering psychopath was a _blonde_. Juniper found that she liked the way the curls rested at his shoulders, unkempt, and so similar to-. She cleared her throat, wondering why the _fuck_ she hadn't screamed yet. And then, "J _uuuuu_ -ni-pe _r_ … Is that _my_ darlin _g_ J _uuuuu_ -ni-pe _r_?" Juniper found herself nodding, bewildered, and she knew that it was shown on her face, transparent as always.

"Don't _tell_ me you forgo _t-ah_ about _little old me_?" She thought back, knowing there was _no_ way she would have _ever_ forgotten meeting the lunatic stood before her. But, there was nothing, Juniper had never been in his presence, and until _now_ , she'd been proud of that fact. His eyes were traveling over her face, drinking her in, there was nothing innocent about the way they roamed over her, but she found that she didn't mind nearly as much as she _should_. A smirk tilted the corner of his mouth, the action had no malicious intent, and Juniper found herself questioning why it seemed _so_ familiar. " _Hm_. You haven't changed _ooo_ -one _bit_ , honey." _Honey_? Juniper frowned up at him, her head quirking to the side, at some point, her hands had placed themselves on his forearms. The girl's jaw dropped slightly, she was embracing the _Joker_. But, as she tried to pull away, he locked his hands behind her back, only serving to trap her closer to him.

"Now, _now_ , let's not r _un_ away from the past, _alriiiight_?" He nodded, as though he were trying to get her to understand, a mock frown masking his face when she didn't respond. The ridiculous pout on his mouth, brought the ghost of a smile to Juniper's, and she leaned away, her torso bending back to create some form of space. He simply edged closer. "Come on _Joo-ny,"_ Juniper's entire being froze, her eyes widening, to the size of saucers. No. _No_. There was a chuckling noise that escaped from him, as thought he'd barely been able to hold it in. He rested his forehead against her's, and she _saw_ it then, the doe-like brown, entwined with the raging black, _then_ , she saw it. _Jack_. Jack was _alive_. Jack was _here_. Jack was the _Joker_.

_"Don't you remember?"_


	2. Morbid Proclaimation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Anyone, anyone at all, would freak out, if their best friend, since childhood, had died, and then just appeared, as an explosive toting mad man that dressed like some twisted, morbid clown." -p7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned on updating this much sooner than now, but life kinda' got in the way of that-hopefully you understand.
> 
> There's some profanity, and a little bit of sexual content-consider yourself warned.
> 
> I don't own any characters from the Dark Knight-just my OC, Juniper.

**_ August 9 _ ** **_ th _ ** **_ , 2008 _ **

_His eyes danced like burning embers behind the veil of a barren, black slate. They scrutinized, and glared. Juniper felt queasy, the shock of her revelation was evident in her stance, his fingers traced lightly over the arch of her back. His touch was gentle, a soothing caress as he looked down at her, his expression teasing, and smug, as though he'd known_ **_all_ ** _along, that this was what she had craved-he probably had. Juniper tried pushing him away, once more, as anger, and confusion filled her, but he crushed her to him, ruthlessly, constricting her breathing. She didn't open her mouth, for fear that she wouldn't be able to control the words that escaped. Betrayal nestled, deep her chest, and she knew her eyes were brimming with unshed tears-she refused to cry. There was a loud shout, and the man-_ **_psychopath_ ** _-before her was being pulled away. Guards with batons restrained him, to the ground, beating him mercilessly, and he just_ **_laughed_ ** _. Not happily, as though he enjoyed his predicament, it was clear, the threat beneath the violent chuckles that raked through his tall, tense figure. The entire time, his lifeless, inky eyes, were locked onto her's._

_Without warning, Juniper was taken back to her old middle school. She lay, discarded on the damp concrete, curled into her scraped knees, and Jack stood, feet away pounding his fist into the sobbing mess, that was Tyler Keffler. The boy's face wasn't recognizable as he begged Jack to stop, but the menace, towering above him, kept his scrutiny on her, a crazed gleam in his eye. He'd looked as though he was watching the world burn-through her, a dark pleasure shadowed along the strong plains of his olive skin._

_Juniper jerked, her body nearly jumping into his arms, that had been placed, lazily, on her hips. Jack's unexpected presence, appeared behind her. He loudly inhaled the scent of her hair. The woman clenched her jaw, shakily as she felt, rather than witnessed, the ghost of a smile, at the corner of his mouth. The echo of words he spoke into her ear, barely registered, she was too caught up in hearing his voice, so real, so_ **_there_ ** _. "I'll be seeing you sooooo-_ **_n_ ** _, Joo-ny. Try not to miss me too much." The guards that had been thrown to the floor, at her feet, picked themselves up, rushing the man, who had, somehow, evaded them_ **_both_ ** _before. As she watched the scene before her, Juniper found herself completely immobile, petrified. The Joker stood, and even in handcuffs, confined by officers, twice his build-but not his height-the man had an aura of authority, power,_ **_danger_ ** _. He smiled, the scars on his cheeks spreading, nearly ear to ear, everything about him, in that moment, was dark. Juniper thought, if he had a soul, it was certainly the color of tar. As the guards escorted him from the room, grumbling profanities to themselves, he called to her over his shoulder, dark blonde curls shifted with the movement._

_"I'll attempt to do the same." The dark makeup around his eyes, hallowed them out, but the wink he cast her, was apparent, and had her knees trembling. She cursed herself when she felt her cheeks heating into a blush. She didn't remember driving home._

Juniper kneaded her fingers beneath her eyes, trying, once more, to clear the memory from the forefront of her mind, but to no avail, the piercing darkness that seemed to linger in Jack's eyes, burned into her memory. She remembered, how could she  _forget_? Still, the echo of his words haunted her, as she sat, her elbows rested on the counter, of her horribly lit kitchen. There was a sound behind her, the distant clinking of ice against a glass cup. Juniper paid no mind, too lost in her own mind to give any thought to what was happening around her. There were arms wrapping around her neck, a voice whispering into the shell of her ear, there was a rasp- _she'd woken him up._

Damien hummed, more of a huff leaving his throat, his eyes were still bleary, and the stubble on his chin prodded into her collarbone. Juniper shuffled irritably, and "I didn't mean to wake you…" escaped her lips,although there was no true apology behind her words, he  _was_ in  _her_ apartment after all. He'd sat the glass down on the counter in front of her. His pale, tattooed skin stretched out before her, instead of lust, Juniper simply felt annoyance spike inside of her. Wet, sloppy kisses were trailed down the juncture of her neck, and while she knew  _most_ girls would be swooning with infatuation, her nose twitched nastily into a snarl. "Not  _now_ , Damien." His dark brown-almost black hair covered his face, as he continued grasping at her hips, hungrily.

"I  _said_ , not  _now_." He tugged the lobe of her ear between his plump lips, pulling, teasingly. It  _usually_ wasn't hard. To give in, and enjoy his pleasurable touch but  _tonight_ , it was different, things had changed, ever since she'd left that asylum. After what had happened, so fresh on her mind, after Jack had seemingly come back from the dead.  _Anyone_ , anyone at  _all_ , would freak out, if their  _best_ friend, since  _childhood_ , had died, and then just  _appeared_ , as an explosive toting mad  _man_ that dressed like some  _twisted,_ morbid  _clown_. Something like that could could send  _anybody_ to the very asylum she'd ran from that day,  _yeah_? But, of  _course_ she hadn't told Damien,  _of course not_. What would he  _think_? Still, he was too close,  _far_ too quickly. Juniper lashed out, withdrawing quickly, and turning to glare at her  _modelesque_ boyfriend.

"What's your  _problem_?" Damien threw his hands up, whining, like a  _dog_ who'd just lost his favorite _chew toy_. "You haven't let me  _touch_ you in  _weeks_ , usually  _we,"_ The exaggerated hand motion he used to gesture between them as a  _pair_ , wasn't lost upon her. "can't keep our hands off  _each other_." He cast her a look, accusingly, and she continued to glare back until his eyes had lost their hard edge, quickly replaced by a vulnerable sigh. Damien had  _such pretty_ brown eyes, but she couldn't help comparing them to ones with a nihilistic gleam to them, with gold, and green patterns streaming throughout the irises. It wasn't  _obvious_ , someone could only spot it if they were  _really_ looking, and stood in  _just_ the right lighting, just  _close enough to lean in a-_ "Is there someone  _else_ , baby?" Juniper's heart skipped a beat, she bit her tongue, knowing by the insecure tone that he was simply putting on a show, to get his way. He only used it whenever he wanted her to feel bad. Juniper's stomach jumped, and her nerves felt like small, electric shocks as they made their way up her throat, she knew she couldn't hesitate,  _had_ to play it off as though it had worked. Because there  _was_ someone else. Flashes of deep, russet brown eyes smeared with hallow black paint, flickered in her mind. And the  _scars_ -guilt swirled within her at the thought, she shook her head,  _no_ , giving in.

When Damien pulled her closer, to continue his assault on her neck, she knew she wouldn't be thinking of the man before her now, as he took her over the edge. Juniper would picture a wild mess of blonde curls, and tan skin, a mischievous boyish smile, and glittering dark eyes, disappearing beneath the duvet, before plunging into her, slick, and fast, with so much fervor- _so much heat_. She would scream as she came, hot, and sticky, her shitty mattress probably wouldn't make it through the night as she rode him, fast, and hard,  _needy_ , the metal frame would dent the wall, but she wouldn't care- _Would she?_  That is, if she didn't  _break him_ first. Arousal hit her, like a punch to the stomach, trailing straight to her core, it had her leaning in, pressing her lips to the pulse in Damien's throat.

Finally, Juniper nodded, eyes glazed as she whispered, "Let's go back to bed, baby."

She sighed into the dark abyss, that was her bedroom, and risked a glance toward Damien. He slept, soundly, his arm bent behind his head as a makeshift pillow, snoring loudly, there was drool at the corner of his mouth. He looked thoroughly fucked-satiated, and Juniper felt jealousy swirl inside her as she snorted to herself, muttering grumpily to herself, that she wished she could say the same. It was hard to think that she used to have orgasm, after orgasm, laying beneath him, in the very spot she rested in currently-it mocked her. Now, now he had a  _routine_ , Juniper needed more than a fast fucking into the her stained mattress to get her off, she supposed the  _honeymoon_ stage of their relationship was over, and one of the biggest reasons she'd kept him around in the first place, was slowly dissipating into the horizon. She let out another sigh, and grabbed for her pack of cigarettes that rested on the nightstand, taunting her cruelly.

Juniper stumbled through the dingy apartment, absentmindedly flicking the box shaped television on as she went by, making her way to the creaky, rusty balcony. She listened to the news as she looked on at the city, to the people below carrying on with their lives, unaware to her problems, to her  _relationship_ with the very person that had terrorized them month before. They all looked so clueless, so naive, like they'd forgotten about him the moment that he'd disappeared from the streets,  _out of sight, out of mind_ , she guessed. Juniper took a slow drag of her cigarette, humming to herself, without any real rhythm, thoughtlessly twirling the smoke against her tongue. It was then that she heard it, so caught off guard, and in the moment. The sounds around her seemed to echo in the distance, even though they were right there. She distinctly heard a gruff curse from the ground below, as she dropped her burning cigarette filter over the side of the balcony, in her shock. Damien stood in the kitchen as she made her way back inside, his hand, innocently shoved in a half empty box of cereal, his mouth hung open as a mumbled, "What is it, babe?" escaped. Juniper paid no mind, instead she stumbled in a dazed, crawling toward the television, as it broadcast a news reporter, in her busty, white dress shirt, and heavy eye make up. Still, there was no looking past the look of fear,  _anticipation_ , in her cobalt blue eyes, as she spoke the words that Juniper could read, _clear as day,_ on the screen-somehow, hearing them made it all the more  _real_ , unfortunately.

" _The Joker_ has seemingly escaped Arkham Asylum, our police officers say they are doing their best to locate him, as we speak.  _Sadly_ , they had no current leads as to where he might be. This is Gotham Chanel Nine, please stay tuned for more inf-" The woman's faking smile morphed quickly into a mask of sheer terror, as gunshots bled through the audio on the screen. Juniper watches as the woman collapses, her once white shirt stained crimson. The camera loses focus for a moment, and there is a blur of red, and black, as it settles on  _him_ , with freshly applied war paint. She can't make out what he says, its a tangle of words, with exaggerated punctuation, his face doesn't change much though, there's a cruel sarcasm in the way he examines the screen, as though he can see each and ever viewer, cowering from their television sets. Juniper finds herself crawling toward it, caressing the grainy static, with trembling fingers. Vaguely, she hears a faint sound behind her, but pays it no mind, it's like she;d caught in some trance, unable to glance away for a second.

"-And don't you  _worry_ , D _oll_ face." He smiled, too wide, too feral, to have any true glee behind the words. Suddenly, the lens was in his face, his yellowed teeth, and black, near soulless eyes glared into the recorder.

"I won't  _let_ you forget."


	3. Unexpected Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He smells like gasoline, and oily hair, greasepaint, and metal. But she's never felt more at home in someone's arms, unfortunately for her, it took a explosive wielding mad man for her to find that. "

**_THE REASON THE DIALOGUE ISN'T IN BOLD OR ITALIC IS BC I'M UPLOADING ON MY PHONE (COMPUTER TROUBLES) I'LL DO MY BEST TO FIX IT WHEN I GET MY COMPUTER BACK. XXX_ **

**_*fixed it <3*_ **

* * *

 

_**August 10th, 2008** _

There was a distinct buzzing right next to her head, it seemed to flow throughout the room, almost reaching every crevice, and corner-it couldn't be ignored. Juniper jumps to her feet, an exasperated annoyance to her tone as she snaps irately toward the incessant racket, "Alright!  ** _A_ _lright_  ** _already_." The hand she ran through the oily roots of her hair felt sticky, and when she brought it down to observe closer, she discovered it was covered in tacky dried blood. Another crimson droplet appears on her pale skin, leaving a thick trail as it falls to the dark wooden paneling of her floor. Juniper sniffs, wiping furiously at her bleeding nose, before the sound of buzzing returns. "Jesus, I  _heard_  you the  _first_   _time_!" As she stumbles, ungracefully into the living room, she turns her attention to the little girl, sitting idly on the end of the couch, with strawberry blonde pigtail braids, and frilly pink pj's.  _Emily_. The girl's attention stayed, unwavering on the television in front of her, the generic jingle of some children's show played on low, almost like background noise.

Finally, the little girl's eyes flickered toward her, before returning to the animated world of, ' _Gumball_?' "Hey, Ju. The,  _uh_ , the  _door's_  ringing again, and,  _uh_ , your nose is bleeding... _again_." Juniper snorts, a slip of what could pass as a laugh escaping her lips, as she mumbles under her breath.  _Kids these days_. It was a fond sigh that she let out, with the twitching quirk of her lips. There were times when she would look at the little girl, and see a near splitting image of herself, with the exception of the blonde hair, Emily could  _easily_  pass as her own child. Her face had yet to mature, or even lose much of its infant-like youth, at her ripe age of nine. They even had the same eyes, but it was. . .  _apparent_ , the differences between them. Emily hadn't quite been hardened by the slums of the city, and Juniper hoped that she could be able to keep it that way, as long as possible. Protect the young girl. The woman in her dazed haste made her way to the intercom, pressing the faded, cracking button beneath it, with a brief, ' _come on up_.'

"You couldn't have answered the door for our  _pizza_ , kid?" Juniper crosses her arms, wrapping her gray jacket closer to herself. She raises an arched brow at the girl, and leans against the breaking plastered wall, waiting. "And do you know when your  _ma's_  gonna' be getting back? It's almost..." Juniper checked the blinking digital clock, eerily glaring at her from the nightstand in her room. " _Twelve_...  _hmm_. She out on a date, again?"

Emily nodded, her pigtails following the movement, before her hazel eyes glanced Juniper's way, flickering in the television's glow. "Y'huh, she's probably not gonna' be back 'till tomorrow morning. You  _know_  how she is... and about the food. . . well, I don't like answering doors without you, it's  _scary_  out there at night." As if to prove her point the girl looks out the open window, into the noisy city, sirens blazing loudly down the street, coincidentally even as they spoke. Juniper just nods, because she understands  _completely_ , Emily's  _mom_ , the fear of the city -  _this_  city, being so helpless you have to rely on someone else to take care of you, the  _one_  person that's  _supposed_  to,  _doesn't_. Juniper gets it, she always has. Instead of voicing this she looks at the small girl, a reassuring smile on her face.

"It's scary out there  _all_  the time.. but you can always come here, to me, for...uh" She clears her throat, her voice barely a whisper. "for  _anything_." The dismissive nod the girl gives doesn't hide the appreciation in her eyes. The woman can tell it meant more to her than what she let on. But there's a knock on the door, and there's not any more time for this  _sappy_   _shit_ , it's time to feed the kid, get her ready for school tomorrow. Routines,  _routines_. How they make Juniper  _itch_. She doesn't look when she answers the door, only sees the greasy pizza box in the man's hands, and goes to grab for it, a twenty already in her fist, shoving the money toward him. It's customary in the city, to keep your eyes toward the ground, keep them on people's  _hands_ , make sure they don't try anything  ** _funny_**. Maybe that's why she's so caught off guard, at the nasally voice, mocking humor barely concealed behind it, maybe  _that's_   _why_  she doesn't have time to react fast enough to close the door, and call the fucking  _police -_ as if  _that_  would help, the police have a tendency for showing up late as it is, a phone call from  _this_   _neighborhood_? It'd take at  _least_  an hour.

"Or- _der_  u **p**." There's a chipper smile on his scarred face when she finally does glance up. A hollowness in his eyes, so deep, like there's nothing in him at all, except for evil, for chaos, and destruction. When his bare hand wraps itself around her throat, and she's being pushed inside of her apartment, she wants to race out the open door - to  _freedom_  - it's her _fight or flight_  kicking in, she supposes. But, Juniper is too busy stumbling over her own feet. He kicks the door closed with his shoe, throws the box to the floor. She's clumsily crashing into various objects littered across the floor, clawing at his hand, trying to get away from him, her only thought then, is of  _Emily_  - and how she hasn't made a single noise. Juniper can't dwell long on the fact, she isn't allowed, she's being tossed back, onto a vacant couch, one that  _doesn't_  occupy a little girl - Juniper let's out a breath of relief, and he - the psychopath pinning her down, doesn't miss a beat.

"Ya' missed me  _that_  bad,  _huh_? I told you not  _toooo_ , that I'd be  _righ **t**_   _here_ , soon enough." He's insane, positively, absolutely, no doubt in her mind, fucking  _crazy_. But, she can't deny that if the worry for her favorite little neighbor wasn't clawing inside of her chest, that maybe, just  _maybe_ , she would actually be a bit  _happy_  to see him. So, she guesses that makes her fucked up too. He isn't touching her, his weight is holding itself above her, almost a foot away, he's not allowing a repeat of the asylum. Perhaps it'd been too  _intimate_  for him. Perhaps he had been staking some  _claim_. It hits her again, almost worse than the first time, that the man above her, is  _Jack_  - that the boy she  _knew_ , hadn't laid, dying in the middle of a battle field,  _alone_. Something like a sob escapes her, but she doesn't cry, instead she's flinging herself up, into his arms, tangling herself into him, breathing into his neck, and she expects the man - the Joker, to throw her off, spit at her in disgust, slice her open with one of his switchblades. He doesn't. There are long, toned arms, hidden beneath a dress shirt - one that he'd  _probably_  stolen - twisting around her waist, and pulling her into his lap, sitting them both comfortably on the couch. He smells like gasoline, and oily hair,  _greasepaint_ , and metal. But she's never felt more at home in someone's arms, unfortunately for  _her_ , it took a explosive wielding mad man for her to find that. The gloves that she's seen  _so_  many times on the television, on the news, are off,  _gone_ , replaced by what  _once_  was olive skin, now paled with the lack of sunlight. But they're  _Jack's_  hands, the scar from where he'd cut his finger open, opening a can of peaches for her, back in the summer of ninth grade is there. She can  _still_  remember the sick feeling in her stomach when he'd smiled maliciously, and made her  _glue_  the skin shut.

They curled in her hair now, caressing her scalp,  _almost_  lovingly. Her heartbeat had kicked into overdrive, humming with anxiety, with excitement, and guilt. Shame that she should find such comfort in the grasp of a  _terrorist_. Juniper complies when he nudges her thin, grey zip up jacket off her shoulders, only a flimsy, nearly see through tank top beneath it. But he's only inspecting her skin, as though he's making sure that it's  _her_. He wouldn't be able to tell, anyhow. Tattoos cover her arms, long intricate, colorful designs hide the milky freckled flesh that had once been there. Brown eyes sparkle in the dim lit living room of her apartment, as they gaze down at her. She can't read his expression but there's a quirk to his lips, just at the corner of his mouth, his fingers traced the outline of a swallow, mid flight, just on the inside of her forearm, and goosebumps gather along her arms immediately. She's more worried that he will notice the hardened peaks of her breasts, than the harsh intakes of her breathing.

But his eyes remain lowered on her tattoos, tracing them gently, almost curiously. They remain that way until the floorboards creak, and he goes rigid, his grip tightening around her wrist. It could have been anything,  _really_. Floorboards creak  _all_  the time, especially in such poorly-constructed apartment buildings, he could've just been  _paranoid_. Only the girl stood, stiffly, hunched over grasping for the door knob, proved that conclusion wrong. _Very wrong._  Juniper was scrambling off his lap, trying to race across the room, free the small girl of the horror story that had become her apartment. Only his grasp that had appeared behind her was too tight, too strong, she couldn't move, only stand in front of his form that loomed behind her. It was one of those moments, in the movies, where a pen could've dropped yards away, and  _still_  have been heard. Juniper was staring into the little girl's eyes, like a mirror to her own, willing her to just  _run_ , to just  _leave_ , and never speak of what she saw. But, Emily wasn't looking at  _her_ , she was staring above her, stock still, and Juniper  _knew_  she was lost in the dark glare of the madman above her. The was a breath of air, next to her ear, and he was speaking into it, without reason, the volume of his voice could still reach each room of the cramped apartment with  _ease_. His voice gruff, unlike the exaggerated nasally tone he'd used before, when he spoke this time, it was all  _Jack_. "All grown  _up_ , now  _Joo-ny_? I come back, and you've got a kid of your  _own_? Moved on from me?"

She's shaking her head, but can't will the words to form in her throat, because he's  _angry_ , she can tell it in his voice, in his hard chest, pressing against her back, in the way the air from his lungs  _hisses_  at her. So, she tries with her eyes, to tell him,  _no_. But, he's crossing the room, toward the girl. He'd be unrecognizable, with his blonde hair, and bland suit, but the war paint that coated his face, like a mask, gave that all away. He was smiling, not with clear malice, but it was there, the threat  _under_  the hard smile that squinted his shark-like eyes. "What's your, uh,  _name_ , sun _shine_?" Emily looks up, fear swirling in her glowing hazel eyes, and they swallow her face until that's all Juniper can see. But the woman nods, smiles reassuringly, as best she can, and it seems to be enough, because the girl looks back at the man squatted down to her height, and stares him in the eye, her voice only barely wavering when she speaks, " _Emily_. My,  _my_  name's  **Emily**. But June calls me.. she calls me  _Em_." The girl looks up again, at Juniper, who stands over the man's shoulder, questioning if she'd said the right thing, she only gets a gentle nod for an answer. Emily twists, her pigtails swinging at her shoulders, and there's something like an odd protectiveness on the way she glares at him, crosses her arms like Juniper had before. "And she's  _not_  my mommy." The hazel gaze softens, flickering again between the two adults in front of her, "But, she  _is_  better at being one," There's a pause, when the girl gathers her hands together, intertwining her fingers together nervously. " _S'nice_  to me."

There's a dark hum, deep, and ground out from between his teeth, it comes from his chest, like a growl, but it's softer than that, almost like he's clearing his throat. "Alright then,  _Em_." He's uncomfortable, under the girl's gaze, Juniper realizes. He retreats quickly, straightening his tie, and wiping off an invisible stain from his dress shirt. Quietly, to herself, Juniper wonders if he's ever even interacted with a child - probably not. He smiles, quick, almost a snarl, and edges back, to the front door. "As  _much_  as I would  _love_  to stay, and chat with you  _lovely_  ladies, I've got places to  _do_ , things to  _be_." He pauses, looking off into space, as thought he can't decide what's wrong with what he's said, before he cheekily winks down at Emily. It startles Juniper, she almost jumps into the air, off of her feet, when the girl giggles, hiding behind her hands. And there's a stutter in her breast bone when his lips raise into a smirk while he's staring down at the blushing little girl, in a moment, so  _quick_ , so insignificant, he's Jack Napier again. He's a  _boy_  - just a teenager, grinning boyishly at her, perched, halfway out of her window, olive skin glowing in the sunlight, and wild, blonde curls following the windy breeze. There's a slam of her door shutting, she barely catches a glimpse of his long legs disappearing behind the threshold of it. Emily's still blushing, but Juniper can't even get  _angry_ about it, because in that moment, he was  _Jack_ , not the Joker, or even a man that favored homicide, and gore, just  _Jack_. As charming as ever.

Juniper isn't sure, just how long, she stands by the door,  _waiting_ , for him to pop his head back in, free of scars, and greasepaint, saying ' _gotcha_ ,' but it doesn't happen _. It never will._

 _Eventually,_  she will learn to accept that.

Suddenly, there's a loud banging on the door, shouting. Emily is jumping into her arms, shaking, a yelp escaping her throat, but Juniper's  _there_ , and she won't let  _anything_  happen to her. She's  _safe_ ,  _for now._  There's another bang, almost like someone's trying to break the door  _down_. Juniper backs away, cradling Emily in her arms. The blunt sound of someone's foot against the door resounds throughout the woman's apartment.

_"GCPD, open up!"_


	4. Cigarette Cloud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's the damp summer afternoon, it’s sixth grade, and she's watching Jack's small, almost boney figure appear from behind the comfort of the treeline. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER; I ONLY OWN JUNIPER, EMILY, AND THE STORY LINE
> 
> WARNING; adult language, (situations?)

**_**August 19th, 2008**_**  
  
Juniper slid the filter of her cigarette from the pack with the sharp edged bite of her teeth, already tasting the spice of the nicotine, as it pricked the back of her throat, filling her lungs like thousands of tiny needles. A flash of white fills her vision when she closes her eyes, like a tingling vibration in her skull, akin to the after-effects of a backhand to the temple. Luckily, it's not  _quite_ the same. She's hearing their voices again, distant, far off, it isn't like a memory, to her it feels as though she's reliving the very moment they burst into her apartment door, nightsticks gripped tightly. One officer appeared from thin air, with a hand gun pointed directly at her, and the girl trembling in her grasp, who was blubbering into her flimsy blouse. Emily hadn't reacted like that, even when the man who’d taken the city she had lived in  _apart_ , bit by _bit_ , had kneeled before her, and asked her name. Then again, he hadn’t pressed a pistol to her face, either.  
  
_"We got a call in, on_ _e_ _of the inhabitants_ _of this building_ _claimed to have seen the Joker, entering your apartment_ _\- number forty four_ _._ _Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to step outside, with me for a moment._ _"_  
  
It had taken forever for the men to leave, with their doubtful eyes, filled to the brim with suspicion - their thoughts were made _very_ clear when their guns had never been re-holstered. In a city like Gotham, not even the police were trustworthy, there was no telling whose pay-roll they were on, or if they were willing to take out a few innocent people in order to put the Joker behind bars - not that _she_ was innocent, not by a _long_ shot. But, even now, as she was innocently having a smoke outside, on her creaky, crumbling balcony, one was parked, not so inconspicuously, on the corner. God bless the poor fool _\- if you believe in that sorta thing_ \- he'd made eye contact with her more than she could count on both of her hands _combined_. He was a skimpy little thing, would probably run the moment things got hairy when _he_ came back. Not _if_ , _when_. If there was one thing she could put her faith in, it was the fact that, despite how much he may hate it, she _knew_ the man behind the war paint. Knew that it took a _hell_ of a lot more than an uncomfortable situation to keep him away from his  _loose ends_. This city was one, a rotting string that he'd - _eventually_ \- have to put a stop to, wouldn't leave it be until he'd destroyed every last _inch_ of it. _She_ was another.    
  
A soft padding of footsteps on the stained hardwood flooring inside of her apartment had her skin bristling. She'd dropped Emily off at school, and her door had been locked. For a _split second_ she imagined that it was Jack, with his crazed eyes, filled with an emptiness that she found was much, _much_ worse than any hate that she could have fathomed, that he'd come to finish her off, be rid of her, _finally_. That after _so_ many years of having her, _right there_ _,_ by his side, he'd gotten tired, _bored_. But, _no_ , of course not, just _Damien_ , with his wandering mouth, and selfish hands. Just her _boy_ friend, not… _him_. Juniper's eyes widened with the realization that she _preferred_ the _former_. The thought makes her laugh, her body convulsing with it, shaking, as the humor leaves her mouth sounding like whimpers, which only encourages Damien as he curls his arms around her bare stomach. For,  _not the first time_ , she considers ending things with Damien, but something has always stopped her. _Loneliness, self doubt,_  maybe even _hope_ , because at one time, she'd been somewhat happy with the man placing sloppy kisses on her neck, as happy as someone like _her_ could be. Maybe it _was_ selfish, but she held onto that, the _past_ feeling, willing it to return, for at least a _while_. Juniper missed the soft way a smile would caress her lips. _Unfortunately_ , she also _knew_ , that there was no way for her to regain that, not with Damien, it'd been lost a _long_ time ago. And, now that she knew _Jack_ was alive...   
  
Juniper sighs, and still doesn’t doesn't say anything. _Something_ is there, an ugly monster lurking in the back of her mind, murmuring into her ear, it says, ‘ _L_ _ater._ _’_  
  
-  
  
It's easy to pretend that she hasn't noticed. That, as soon as she stepped past the cracking threshold of her front door, she had _missed_ the creaking of the floorboards across the room. That she _couldn't_ hear the low hum of his breathing, that it _didn't_ fill her chest with something that couldn't even be masked in any innocent way. But, _he's_ there, across the room. It's odd, the way he stands the same, leaned back, hands hidden in the comfort of his pockets, he’s staring past the sliding door of the balcony, into the city- _his city_. The hunched slouch of his shoulders is gone, so is his _ridiculously_ heavy purple coat. He's wearing a green sweater, it hangs loosely on his lanky, fit frame. The sleeves are slightly rolled up, to the curve of his elbow, the long lengths of his legs have been clothed in some ripped blue jeans. He looks normal, rugged, he looks like _Jack_. Fresh out of high school, how he _would_ have been - without the scars, _of course_. Juniper stands, leather studded purse falling limply to the side, from her curled fist. Suddenly, it's the damp summer afternoon, it’s sixth grade, and she's watching Jack's small, almost boney figure appear from behind the comfort of the treeline. He doesn't seem to even be walking, just gliding toward her, slouched, a deep colored bruise runs down the side of his face, mixtures of purple, and a bloodshot eye, his lip is split, and _this_ time he _definitely_ needs stitches. She stands there, watches him edge closer, from beneath the old bleachers. The urge to pounce into his arms, to wrap herself around him, promise him that she'd _never_ let anyone hurt him ever, _ever again_ , is almost _unbearable_. But, she _can't_. Instead she tucks a stray strand of jet black hair past her bangs, behind her ear, and passes Jack the burning filter of her cigarette _. He seems to appreciate that much more._ Juniper fights that urge, even now, as she _watches_ ** _ **him**_** , _watching_ ** _ **her**_**. It wouldn't take much, she could sling herself at him, and he would be so surprised, he _may_ even catch her.   
  
She won't risk it. Rejection was insignificant - _unless_ it is from him. _This_ time, she offers no cancer stick, allows no feeling, doesn't even open her mouth to speak, _this_ time, Juniper lets him do the dirty work. She’s all out of ideas. Good thing it doesn’t take _long_ , he’s picking at the peeling paint above the glass door, there’s a stream of smoke exiting his lips, as he fidgets, tapping the ash out, absentmindedly. When his scarred lips are parting to speak, swollen, and red, from the grease paint, Juniper can’t keep her eyes away, she practically worships each nicotine tainted exhale from his mouth, with her fluttering eyes. “ _So_ ,” She can almost picture him clapping his hands together enthusiastically, before expressing some diabolical - _yet, humorous-_  scheme, to run away from Gotham together, and never look back _. I wish._  Juniper swallows heavily, relieving her throat of the aching tightness. “How’s _life_ treated my girl?” There’s no nasally timber to his voice, only deep, rough tones, hoarse in their attempts at anything lighthearted. He’s given her a choice, to go along with his direction of conversation, reveal something about herself that he would, _no doubt,_ just retaliate by ripping away. _Or_ , to dive straight into the _problem area_ , which would, _most likely_ , result in her guts being scattered throughout her apartment. Both things bad, for _her_. Juniper settles for common ground, an easy middle that, _hopefully_ , won’t set him off.

“Just how _ _the fuck__ did __you__ get into my apartment?” __Maybe not then__ , she cursed herself, and began backing away when he, __carelessly__ , distinguished the ember of his cigarette on her scarlet, stained couch. She hadn’t meant to __quite__ say __that__. __Honest__.

“ _ _Hm__. You _ _\- uh -__ wanna’ run that by me __again__ , __Joo-ny__?” His face, while clear of its usual paint, is a mask of sarcastic confusion, his mouth twisted bitterly, eyes narrowed on her. He was edging toward her, stalking, slowly, like a predator, readying itself to pounce. Along the way he threw his crumpled smoke onto the ground, discarded in a pile of forgotten ashes. Now, he brandishes a switchblade, waving it about with each movement of his hand, it gleams at her, like a bloody smile.

“There’s a police cruiser right __outside__ this shit hole, how’d you get in here?” She doesn’t lose her tone, although it is __admittedly__ less sharp. He tilts his head to the side, observing her as he backed her toward the door, his smile is more of a snarl, and exposes a row of yellowed teeth. Juniper tries not to gag as the knife bites into the pout of her lips, hushing her, as he taps the threatening blade over her lips, with a almost gentle sounding ‘ _ _tut-tut-tut__.’

“Such __foul language__ , doll.” The Joker admonishes, his dark eyes glaring at her unintentionally. When she doesn’t respond, for fear he’ll slice her tongue out, he pushes off of the slope of the doorway, and strides across the room, twirling the knife in his hand animatedly, catching it mid air in playful tosses. “How _ _hilarious__ , you think __I__  don’t know how to get around a few __clumsy pigs__?” He casts her a look over his shoulder, as though he’d thought __better__ of her. Until he sighs, pocketing his knife, once more. “I can take over this __entire city__ , breaking into a __poorly guarded apartment building?__  That’s __child’s__ play for me, love.” She knows he’s right, there’s no room for argument, or debate, it’s not that he’s even cocky, just honest, __and__ …

“You’re a fucking __psychopath__ , Jack!” Juniper shouts, accusingly, making a quick lunge for her bag - there __should be__ a container of mace in there - __somewhere__. She feels his hands before she __hears__ him __moving__ , like he’d gotten to her faster than her __mind__ could even __process__. They lace around her rib cage, beneath her arms, lifting her up, and forcing her back against his front. He’s not gentle by any means when he traps her to him, but Juniper can tell, with the pressure of his muscles __everywhere,__  splayed out, right __behind__ her, twitching with the tension of his dwindling self control, that he could have probably ripped her apart if he’d wanted to. So, while he isn’t __kind__ with his hole, he isn’t exactly cruel, either. It’s moments like this, when she can understand the citizens of Gotham, why they cower beneath this __man__ so easily, why __she’d__ done the exact same - even when he’d just been a __boy__. It was because, Jack Napier, was _ _, in every sense of the word__ , extraordinary. Anyone with half a __mind__ would see, that this wasn’t simply a __man__ , he was indeed God-like. Strength, intelligence, and power, he had it all. But, __maybe__ that was just her OCD talking. It didn’t __matter__ though, because she couldn’t think, anyhow. He was hugging her to him from behind, if __anyone,__ an outsider _ _,__ were to see the two of them that way, they would seem like a couple, in love, and maybe even still falling. For a moment, it could have even fooled __Juniper__ , but the crushing pressure of his calloused fingers wrapping around her wrist, to make her drop the can of pepper spray, with a ringing echo as it fell, dispelled that idea as soon as it came. His voice rumbles through his chest, and she feels the growl of his words, pressed against her ear before she can ever even process a single syllable.

“Well _lll_ , _Ju-ni-per_ , that sure as _fuck_ didn’t stop you _be-fore_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment, and bookmark! xxx
> 
> IMPORTANT!! PLEASE READ!! Would you guys prefer the chapter length longer? As of right now each chapter is about 2,000 words (3 or 4 pages) I can definitely stretch the chapters, if you'd like ;) 
> 
> THE ONLY PROBLEM WITH THAT WOULD BE THAT I WOULD TRY TO UPLOAD WEEKLY, JUST NOT ON A SET DAY! (it may take at least a week and a half - bc I would also have to edit it)
> 
> let me know in the comments!


	5. f i v e -NEW-

_"Well, Ju-ni-per, that sure as fuck didn't stop you be-fore."_

Her wrist feels broken. It very well  _could_ be, but she's not able move it to check because  _Jack_ still has a tight hold on it, although he  _had_ spun her around to face him.  _Probably to watch my expression as he rams his knife into my neck,_  she mused to herself. It oddly captivates her, the way his dark brown irises glint down, and  _also_ manages to scare Juniper out of her mind. He's not hurting her anymore, his grip is only firm, to keep her still. He won't leave bruises like this but, she kind of wishes he  _would_ , it would be a  _hell_ of a lot easier to hate him, if so. Or, at least to  _feel_ a little less. Juniper tries to erase the dull throb in her throat by swallowing, Jack's attention wavers toward the movement straight away. The rough pad of his thumb traced the pulse alongside her neck, gentle as it traveled against the smooth, milky skin, contradicting the way his eyes had maliciously bore into her before. His breath fans across her face, a mixture of coffee, and nicotine filling her lungs. It had always been hard to breathe around him, she was overwhelmed with  _him_ , his proximity, scent, touch,  _presence_. Juniper's hand laced around his. Gentle as it moved, as to not frighten him away - that thought in itself was,  _indeed_ , laughable. Still, her nails caressed the back of his palm gently, with no pressure at all, the tips of her fingers tingled at the contact. His eyes fall shut reluctantly, twitching beneath the protection of their lids as he fights to keep them open.

Jack pulls away, rapidly detracts himself from her like she's some contagious  _disease_ , his eyes open and narrowed, glaring at her once more.

An almost dejected sigh escapes her.

" _Jack_ -" She hadn't thought it possible but his stare darkens, like a black cloud embracing her. He continues standing there, fists clenched, jaw locked, like he's restraining himself, and Juniper has to remind herself  _not_ to call him that. " _Look_. We.." She gestures toward him, and herself exasperatedly trying to form words to  _make_ him understand. Trying to forget the way it felt to be in his arms again. " _We_ are clearly very different people, compared to who we used to be.. So," Juniper gulps down air with her shallow inhale - she has a  _point_ that she needs to  _make,_ no matter  _how_ pissed off he seems to be getting. - " _So,_ maybe it would be best if we just… If we just went our separate ways, Ja- _Joker_." Juniper finishes solidly, almost feeling the need to pat herself on the shoulder for actually managing to form a sentence. But, the room echoes its hollow silence as her words break off, and she can practically see the steam flowing from Jack's ears in his brooding anger, she wonders how long it will take him to snap and just kill her. Juniper hesitates, her deep breathing pausing at the thought, and she quietly entertains the idea of revisiting her old therapist.

" _Separate ways_." His voice is low, it rumbles like thunder from his chest, gravelly like he's swallowed stones, and she feels something like ice traveling over her chest. A chuckle fills the air after he speaks, eerily escaping him like he can't control the ridiculous noise - he doesn't even try. Juniper feels like she's entered a movie, the pull to cautiously begin laughing alongside him is almost unbearable, as though her joining him would welcome  _her_ to the joke. "You must have a couple of,  _uh_ , loose screws in that thick skull of your's,  _Ju_ - _ni_ - _per_." When had he pulled his switchblade back out? She wonders if he'd ever even let go of it, for all she knows it could be sewn to the rough skin of his palm. Juniper can't say she's felt her stomach drop so queasily, so fast, but as he twirls the knife in his hand, tongue swiping at the scars along his cheeks, she forgets how to breathe, and if her heart  _could_ forget things, then it would have stopped beating a while back.

"Wouldn't that be for the best? I," She gulps, ducking her head when his eyes narrow on her, "I  _mean_ … you wouldn't have to worry about me saying anything about your…your  _past_." The Joker slams his fist forward, and Juniper is sure that's the end of it, the last few seconds of her life before she keels over from a knife wound to her side. She pictures herself pressed against her old bedroom door, when she'd just been a simple teenager, with Jack's furious eyes glaring down at her, reigning in his fury that had radiated throughout the room, but that had been  _then_ , now,  _now_ he was a mass murdering psychopath that wouldn't blink twice before slitting her throat open.

Yet, only the wall at her side feels the brunt of his violence, as his switchblade sways back, and forth, unsteadily. "You just _love_ testing my patience  _don'tcha'_ , Joony?" He hums, leaning in closer to rest his forearms on the wall above her head. Juniper can smell the gasoline and gun powder wafting off of him, like the scent has sunken so deep into his skin that no matter what he wears, it follows him. "I've never found another woman like you, did  _y'know_ that?" A scoff escapes him as he swallows, and tilts his head toward her. "I wave a knife in your face, and you're  _still_ running your fucking mouth… _hm.._ now, even  _I've_ gotta' admit,  _that's dedication_."

Skeptical laughter escapes from somewhere deep within her chest, bubbling up from all of her fear, and confusion. The Joker regards her with raised eyebrows, as delirious giggles shake her form. " _Wheeeeew_ , Joony, you're..  _uh_ , you're off your rocker,  _huh_?" Juniper can't speak past the mania attack if she'd tried. He just stands there,  _looking_ over her,  _waiting_ for her to gather herself, and even swiping his calloused thumbs against her cheeks to wipe the tears as they fall from her eyes. It reminds her of  _Jack_ , reminds her that he  _had known_ her, like the back of his hand- _probably_ even better, actually. He'd been there through all her ups, and downs, and in-betweens. They had  _history_ , and no matter who he'd become, or what danger presented itself around him, she'd be there too. Because that's just who she is, Juniper Heden,  _Jack Napier's best friend_.

It's like some kind of epiphany she has, the force of it has her wrecked, like she's been molded into someone else altogether, but no, it's just  _her_ , just  _Joony_. She'd  _known_ it was Jack, but it seemed she'd just  _really_ processed it, and Juniper doesn't care that her stomach flutters when he pulls her closer, and edges them toward the couch, it's been a long time coming; her attraction to Jack. Her love for her best friend.

_Maybe she really is just falling off her rocker._

" _Jack_." His grip tightens around her briefly before relaxing again as they settle along the creaking cushions, but she just has to get it through to him, _he has to know too_. "Jack." When he finally looks down at her, again, his eyes almost look black, naturally narrowed, and piercing. There's something  _else_ there now, though. When her hand comes up to cup his scarred cheek, he tilts toward the touch, and Juniper knows, that he doesn't need any reminding-he'd never  _forgotten_. " _I missed you_ , so  _much_ … You were  _dead_ , I… I  _buried_ you."

The Joker nods, jostling her hand, and pulling it away, he tucks it between his own as he begins to speak, "And  _now…_ I'm  _no_ t." A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, mocking, but pleasant, all the same, as he strokes a strand of hair behind her ear, at this point, he's way too far gone to even  _know_ the meaning of gentle, anymore. Juniper rests her head on the arm of the couch, her eyelids feeling heavy, and anxiety clutching her chest.

 _And_ now _…_

**_I'm_ ** **not** **_._ **

* * *

_An old, vintage song played low over the speakers rigged up at Mr. D's Diner, while Juniper sat stuck in her own boredom, and sipped at her flat soda, waiting for Jack to finish up._

_Luckily, Jack had never been one to make her wait._

_Genuine laughter escaped her lips as Jack slouched into the booth across from her, tossing pieces of her own straw wrapped toward her with surprising precision. His stained, off white apron hung around his neck, the flimsy strings barely holding up, and the fabric itself bunching around his waist. He look tired, aged with his blonde curls pulled into a pony tail at the base of his neck, and dark circles cutting out any golden shine to his eyes. His skin had paled from the lack of sunlight, the freckles along his cheeks, and across his nose were disappearing. Juniper blushed across at him, watching as the neon street light outside reflected across his face, she was still a sucker for the stupid smile of his._

_Juniper brought her hand up quickly, to hide her smile and control the obnoxious giggling that had Jack's boss, Mister Dalmon, leaning through the window of the kitchen, glaring at her. Jack wouldn't have that though, his hand already curled around her wrist, tugging it away with a mischievous grin of his own. She was surprised to see it light up his face so brightly, and her blushing cheeks burned even more so than before._

_"Fuck him." He pretended to whisper, conspiratorially balancing a menu up against a mustard bottle to hide behind. It only gave her reason to move closer to him, so she didn't really mind so much. Her chest felt so light, she thought that if Jack released her hand, relaxed beneath his on the table, that she would just float away. "I'm gonna' quit soon, anyway. I got a better job offer over at Jimmy's."_

_The kitchen door swung open, and Mr. Dalmon charged at the two teenagers saddled up in the grimy old booth, knocking the menu over in his fit._

_Jack really needed work on his, 'whispering.'_

* * *

"Babe?"

Juniper scrunches her nose up, turning away from the voice, groggily, and pulling a throw pillow over her face to block out the noise.

" _Babe_?"

Something leaves her that can only be described as,  _a noise,_ before her eyes seal themselves shut again.

" _Hey_ , you with me?" She feels hands on her face, they're soft as they cradle her cheeks. Juniper kicks out, groaning her distaste. She only cracks open an eye when her foot makes impact, and a masculine grunt is followed by a dull thud. Her view is bleary as she peaks over the edge of the couch, inwardly praying that she hadn't just clipped the Joker in the balls with her foot. Unexpectedly, Damien is crouched with his hands grasping the crotch of his jeans, a twisted expression on his face.

Juniper pauses, glancing around the room to make sure Jack wasn't lurking in the shadows of her apartment. She didn't even remember falling asleep. Plus, it wouldn't exactly be a great occasion if they ever ran into one another. One of them was  _bound_ to stab the other, and something told her that Damien wouldn't come out  _on top_. Really, she should do something about that... maybe call the police on Jack-who probably had every cop on his payroll-or breakup with...

_Speaking of Damien._

" _So_ ," Her eyes flutter back toward her boyfriend's cowering form.

"When did you get here?"


	6. A Matter Of When & How

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS! Ooo... was that too aggressive? My bad. I'm just reeeeeee-ally excited to post this because it feels like it's been for e V E R since I last updated this story, but I promise it wasn't for lack of trying. I've just kinda been in a funk. Nothing to fuss over, I just know how it feels to miss a story and all so I completely understand when you guys get a little pushy for updates. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy, pretty please with a cherry on top favorite and review! xxx
> 
> THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN UPDATED

**_ **August 21** _ ** **_ **st** _ ** **_ **, 2009** _ **

__It’d only be a matter of time._ _

Juniper sighs into her pillow, nuzzling into the soft fabric with the sheets of her bedding cradled between her thighs;it was  _ _nice__ to have a moment to herself. Even if she did just waste the time living in a past that couldn’t be brought back. Images of  _ _him__ danced behind her eyelids whenever she closed them and she’s beginning to believe it would be easier for them to just  _ _stay__ shut. Juniper knows it’s no good to think that way, that it’ll only make things worse, so she drags herself from the bed, and focuses on the sound of her feet padding through the stuffy apartment.

The air feels stale, the rooms she walks through are only lit by the flickering neon sign, flashing “ _ _Apollo’s__ ,” across the street, but there is no boogie man waiting for her in the shadows. _ _T__ _ _h__ _ _is time__. Juniper finds her lips curling into a humorless smile as she unlocks the latch of her balcony door.

It’s only a matter of time. 

-

The air feels like it’s been knocked from her lungs as she makes her way toward the police station. A panic attack is building in her chest at the thought of what she is planning to do. It would be so simple to just skip town, to leave, to watch the city she’d grown up in be brought to its knees-torn apart. But,  _ _he__ would only find her. He would hunt her down and shove her nose in the remains, just to see her reaction, just to __keep__ her there. He wouldn’t kill her for  _ _running__ _ _,__ though. For __this__? There is no doubt in her mind, by tomorrow she would be on the news with her throat slit for what she was about to do. __Leaving__? Jack would just drag her back. But, betrayal wasn’t so easily overlooked.  _ _Sure__ , he’d  _ _had__ a soft spot for her, in the end, that was all the  _ _more__ reason for him to rid himself of her.

It’s what’s for the __best__ , Juniper knows that now. Jack __was__ her best friend, she’d be there for him, __with__ him, no matter __what__. Because _ _, i__ _ _n the end,__  this would be the best for the both of them- _ _and__ the city. There was no telling how long she  _ _had__ anyway, with her close relations to a terrorist, the results weren’t looking so great for her, regardless. She would die, there was no way around that. Gotham, though? The  _ _children__ , the families? They had a __chance__. Juniper would risk this to better their favor.

Her only dilemma seems to be hurting the person she loves. The man she loves would likely kill her himself, he would __hate__ her. The person she had lived her entire life for, spent every second thinking of, would think of __her__ as a __traitor__.

Juniper inhales deeply before she enters the police station. She fails to notice the obvious, dented white van parked along the corner, and dark eyes following her every step.

It feels wrong to fidget and avoid the commissioner’s gaze as he questions her, and Juniper knows her unsubtle reluctance to speak to an ordinary officer already makes her a suspect in his eyes. She had demanded to speak to Gordon __specifically__ upon arrival, as any other cop in the system was likely corrupt,  _ _or__ on the  _ _persuasive__ side of the loop. Honestly, she had expected him to be rude or in the very least rush her. But, the moment she had sat in the seat across from him he’d told her to take her time and had gone to grab her a coffee when his had needed to be refilled. His smile reminds her of her dad’s,  _ _and__ she regrets this already.

“I’m sorry, I thought… I thought I was prepared for this, I jus-” Gordon is shaking his head, his hand feels warm when it falls over her’s. The papers scattered across his desk aren’t easy for her to ignore, Juniper knows she’s just wasting his time.

“Truly, there’s no rush, we can start off with a few questions to get you loosened up, yeah?” Juniper finds herself nodding along with his words, despite her nails indenting crescent shapes into her palms. Gordon nods gently and continues.

“So, how long have you lived in Gotham… __miss…__?”

 ”Heden.” Juniper supplies.

They’re five minutes deep into small talk, when there are gunshots heard outside of the Commissioner’s office. They’re much louder than they sound in the movies she’s seen. Each one sounds nearly identical, but it doesn’t make the ringing in her ears stop.

 Juniper braces herself against the table, meeting Gordon’s light brown eyes for what she knows is the last time. 

Though she wants to be the heroine of her own story, to stand proud and protect the kind man before her like she wasn’t scared out of her wits, Juniper knows this is impossible when she can’t even form a coherent sentence to express her self loathing.

“I…I had  _ _thought__ that I…” __What was it that she had__ thought _ _, again?__ “That I could __help__ you;that I could help the city…I __really__ did, Gordon.” She hates herself even more when her heart skips a beat. __How dare she feel self pity when she had condemned this city to rot? How dare she.__

For a moment she believes an explosion has gone off behind her, the office door is splintered on the ground at her feet, like someone has been thrown through it, and arms are capturing her around the waist. The air that had been in Juniper’s lungs is forced out from the pressure on her ribs. Even if she had the freedom to breath in this moment, she knows that she wouldn’t be able to. The smell of bitter cigarette smoke and gasoline clings to __him__ in the way it always has, the signature purple coat he wears is missing, his bare arms are circled around her, his sleeves are tugged to his forearms. She finds herself admiring the veins that bulge just beneath his skin before she can stop herself.

In the process of nearly pissing herself from fear and ogling the main source of said __fear__ , she blushes at the daggers his eyes pierce her with. He’s come toting a gun and a sneer.

It doesn’t matter now, everything that she __would__ have told Gordon, he can clearly see;she __knows__ this man-this __monster__ , she knows the Joker, and there’s no way he doesn’t know __her__. It won’t matter for long-she’ll be dead soon anyway. Jack would kill her. Funny, she hadn’t given them any information that could have been helpful and still the look she had feared the most burns fiercely in his black eyes as he aims the chunky looking gun at the commissioner. She had  _ _betrayed__ him, and she hadn’t even  _ _told__ them anything.

Time seems to stop as he glares at Gordon without even really trying to. Juniper knows if she doesn’t say anything the madman’s trigger finger might squeeze a bit prematurely. If she doesn’t say something Jack will surely kill him.

“I didn’t tell them __anything__ , yet! He doesn’t  _ _know__. Nobody knows-God, I __swear__.” The sob rips through Juniper’s throat as she tries to speak over the gunfire around them. The Joker cuts his eyes towards her for a moment, before turning back toward Gordon. His gaze never moves from her any longer than totally necessary.

She sees it in that glance, he doesn’t  _ _want__ to kill the commissioner-that wouldn’t help  _ _him__ any. In his eyes, that would ruin the twisted game he has going. Juniper’s stomach drops as they begin to move, they’ve exited the room so fast Juniper hopes that Gordon hadn’t blinked, otherwise he’d have missed them. The pace isn’t graceful on her end, Jack’s stride is too wide for her to match without gasping for breath. He never stops to let her keep up, firing straying bullets every few seconds. There’s a sharp pain in her side, like she’s been jabbed with a fire poker, but the sensation is gone in seconds. Shots resound off the walls in endless streams. They pierce her eardrums with their intensity, leaving behind only a constant, shrill ring, much more intense than it had been before. The room is a blur of blood and rapid fire, and then he’s pushing her through a door and into the back alley way.

The Joker’s grip on her waist lets up, only to travel to her arm just above her elbow, squeezing so tightly she fears it will snap. She trips on the uneven threshold of the sidewalk, tumbling toward the ground, but he doesn’t offer any assistance with his grasp. In fact, he releases her just so he’s able to shove her further into the fall. The loose chunks of cement and glass dig into her knees as his fist winds itself into her hair. She thinks can feel her roots breaking away from her bruised skull. Tears fill her eyes when her scalp throbs. He lifts her face so she has no choice but to look into his black eyes.

“Did you **_**_really_**_** _ _thin__ ** _ ** _k_**_** I wasn’t going to keep an __eye__ on **_**_my_**_** _ _gir__ ** _ ** _l_**_** ,  _ _Joony__?” He sighs exaggeratedly, and his gaze wanders up like he’s thinking of what to say. There is no doubt in her mind that he already  _ _knows__ , that he’d mulled it over in his head until he’d found the  _ _exact__ words he was going to spit into her face. “Did you  _ _thin__ ** _ ** _k_**_** I was going to  _ _le__ ** _ ** _t_**_** you waltz into a  _ _police departmen__ ** _ ** _t_**_** and share our  _ _secret__ ** **s****?” He hisses. “ _ _Huh__?” The facial expressions he pulls on a whim would be poetic if they weren’t life threatening. Juniper wonders if his eyes always looked so sunken and harsh.

 “Is tha ** **t****  wha ** **t****  you  _ _though__ ** _ ** _t_**_**?” There’s a thick trail of blood tickling the skin on her face as it falls. She’s not even sure that it’s her blood until her vision begins to swim in and out each time she blinks. He’s too close and… and she __should__ be mad at him, just as angry as he is at her. He __hurt__ her. He hurts __everyone__. But, Juniper can’t think and all she wants to do is curl into the crook of his arm that’s resting on the brick wall, just above her head. The rage on his face is undeniable, like his words are only making him angrier.

The screeching of tires draws Juniper’s attention for a fleeting second and she catches a glimpse of a white van at the end of the alleyway, the breaks squeal but the vehicle doesn’t stop in time to miss hitting the brick wall. The hand in her hair jerks, pulling her attention back to the eyes of obsidian glaring holes through her skull. She figures that he doesn’t like that he lost her attention so easily because with a careless thrust of his hand, her head collides with the cement, bouncing back and hitting again from the sheer force of the impact. Her blurred vision swims with flashes of men in warped clown masks sliding open the doors of the busted up vehicle. Her eyelids flutter uncontrollably as she loses focus completely and everything goes black.

Jack glares down at her motionless form as he stands, a snarl contorting his face. Regardless, he bends to pull her up, slinging her limp body over his shoulder and striding toward the inhabited van.

 

 

 


	7. Rag Doll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STOP! If you'd like to, I revised the previous chapter and changed a few details, so go check it out before you continue. Unless you don't wanna, then don't. That's cool too.

 

_August 22,_ _2009_

Her cheekbone aches from the pressure it holds against the cold, dirty floor. Juniper can taste the dried blood in her mouth, cracking against the inside of her cheeks. When her tongue slides against the surface of her teeth she can feel that they are covered in a thin, pink film of blood. She spits the taste away before she ever opens her eyes. There are various bones in her body, crushed beneath her own weight, that she was unaware could be bruised before now. She was unconscious at the time, but her tender flesh that makes contact with the floor tells her that she was likely tossed or had fallen to the ground. And, now, she's in the middle of a dark room that smells of vomit. Juniper can't see past her hands, but there's a dripping sound somewhere off in the distance that lets her know that the room is bigger than it seems.

She hasn't forgotten anything, she didn't wake up with a few short minutes of false security. Juniper woke up feeling as though she were never asleep. She awoke knowing that she was going to die. Sooner or later. Today or tomorrow, maybe even the tomorrow after that.

The muscles in her arms spasm out of control when she leans on them to lift herself up and something close to the area of her ribcage pops with the movement, unwinding in her skin. But, Juniper manages to scoot against the wall behind her before the appendages completely give out. Her head falls back toward the wall, feeling much heavier than it should. Typically she would call out to her captor if her throat didn't feel like it had been rinsed with acid and her body didn't feel like it had housed dozens of bullets. She doesn't even seem to have the energy to keep her eyes open long enough to identify her surroundings. They won't focus.

Instead, she decides to wait. That's in her capability. It isn't as though she has another choice, besides bleeding out from the weeping wound at her side that she's only just become conscious of. Juniper can't get past the rapid beating of her heart to acknowledge it, though. Her legs tingle, like little spiders are crawling up and down them in sync. She wants to knock the feeling away but her arms feel like cinder blocks, so she stops trying to lift them before she ever starts.

The air around her hums from the wiring of nearby fluorescent lighting, but the room she's in remains lifeless and dark. Her only company is the sound of the leaky faucet. There's a doorway not five feet from her. She knows it's there because she can see the light pooling beneath it, teasing her with its dim edges that tickle the tip of her shoes but reach no further. It could be  _so_ simple. All she has to do is  _get up_  and  _walk out_. There's no lock, it's as easy as turning the handle. The tips of her fingers can only twitch at the thought.

_A whooshing sound fills her head and it reminds her of the beach that she used to go to almost every single Summer with her grandfather._

The sun and the clear sky, the fresh breeze filling her senses, and the rapid rhythm of her heart. She can feel it,  _see it_ , now.

_Sitting on the shore, collecting sea shells in a bucket with the taste of salt on her tongue. Seagulls flying over her head, their wings fighting against the wind, and feathers floating toward the ground. The gritty sand beneath her toes burns when it touches the cuts from broken shells. But, she doesn't mind._

_It smells like tanning oil and summertime. There are palm trees_ everywhere _._

_Her heart is pounding, throbbing in her ears._

_Perhaps it's excitement, she's always_ loved  _the beach. How had she gotten here, again? Why does her body ache like it's been fighting against the current for days on end?_

 _But-it doesn't_ matter _anyway, she supposes_.  _A hand touches the string holding the bottom of her bathing suit together, it's familiar so she doesn't mind. It must be cold, though. Because she's_ freezing _. Shivering, just like the surface of the foamy ocean water._

 _Juniper doesn't know when he got here. Or how.. not even_ why _. That doesn't matter, either, she thinks. Because he_ is _. And his hands feel so_ nice  _against her skin. She wants him. She always has. Maybe he'll let her have him here, wherever here is._

" _Joo-ny_."  _His voice sounds odd, but his touch is nice. She won't stop him, still._  No.

" _Juniper_." _Her skin prickles unpleasantly at the distortion this time. He sounds_ angry _. Why is he yelling at her? What's she done now?_

 _"_ Juniper _." The ocean turns red, like blood… it's rushing at her in an unnatural way. Like it's going to eat her alive._ _She finds herself giggling uncontrollably, because, how will it without a mouth?_

"Wake.  _Up_. Juniper."  _The ocean's going to get her before Jack ever does._

_And where has he gone? She can still feel his fingers, but they dig into her skin. Her heart feels like a black hole in her chest, devouring everything inside of her it can reach. Whether it's sorrow or mourning, she can't tell._

_How can you mourn someone when they're standing right next to you?_

"I  _said_. Wake. U _p_."  _She never wants to, again._  But, she's never been able to deny him anything.

_Not when he sounds so lost._

…

His calloused fingertips scrape her face, pulling and pushing in every which way, until he gets her to open her eyes. They flutter at first before opening to see his unclear outline that towers over her. A mix of white, black, and red. They won't focus on him as a whole, rather only his nose, his left scar, and right. Sometimes just his mouth, or the line marring his bottom lip that she wants to taste.

Juniper can't seem to grasp anything as it is, she can only pluck out the details and combine them to the best of her capability. Her body hurts, she knows that much. But, she can only feel the throb of her temples at once, and when she loses that detail she can feel the blood pooling out of her side like a broken spigot, and his hand pressing into the wound to slow it. She feels her lungs crack when she inhales and then she feels her lips smile when they part to breathe his name.

"Jack."

" _What_?" She isn't offended when he hisses out the word out at her, because she can tell from the tilt of his frown that he's panicking, at least a bit.  _That_ , and she expects it from him by now.

She also doesn't protest when he lifts her into the stained tub. She only notes that they're  _definitely_ in a bathroom and that he carries her like he would his bride rather than by the tangle of her hair.

 _His_ hair is pulled to the nape of his neck, tied with a band. Like he used to wear it when they were young. It's not blonde anymore, but she recognizes the stray curl that falls into his brown eyes. The eyes that burn with concentration as he gathers a kit and begins to stitch her back together.

Like a little rag doll that he uses as he sees fit. Juniper wonders if all she's ever been to him was a toy. And she also wonders why she doesn't mind nearly as much as she should. But, then his wide smile flashes beneath the comfort of her closed eyelids, and she thinks of how she used to watch him. The way his skin glowed a lovely olive hue as he mowed the grass in his front yard. She remembers staring a bit too long, memorizing the spread of his freckles, and lazing around her childhood home as they listened to the radio.

She remembers Jack and she curses his name for remembering her.

The needle shreds through her skin as it pieces her back together. She's fading out of consciousness again when she finishes the sentence she never got to start.

" _I'm sorry_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeey, haha. Long time, no read. Well, I just wanted to let you guys know that I appreciate all the comments and support. I take each comment to heart and I love reading them so much, it really does make my day.
> 
> I know that it's been a while, guys. I'm really sorry my uploads aren't frequent, or on time, or long.
> 
> I'm honestly just feeling very lost and unmotivated. I know that there are a lot of great stories for Dark Knight and Ledger's Joker, but I've just kinda' lost my passion for the characters. I'm trying to find it again because I'll never not appreciate Ledger's work or writing in general. I'm just having trouble with appreciating my writing.
> 
> Just so you know, I'm probably gonna' go back and begin rewriting, "Don't You Remember?", and, eventually, this as well. I'm not satisfied with this, or DYR?. I probably will tweak a few things and a lot of the chapters will likely be longer.
> 
> I wouldn't really count on weekly or monthly updates, but I will eventually get it out there. 
> 
> So, as far as this story goes, I probably won't upload until I revise & rewrite my previous chapters. But, for the sake of time, I will be editing Rampage first. 
> 
> I;m not sure if you can tell much, but I've grown a lot over the time I've been writing this series and I think my writing has improved... a lot. It's alright if you disagree, but it won't change the fact that I'm going to change it.
> 
> I'll never be satisfied with anything that I do, but I know that I can do better than what I've done. 
> 
> So, just check for updates, beginning with the first chapter of this story from now on (if you want) and know that I appreciate each and every one of you. xxx


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